


The Widining Gyre

by Aklya



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-03-05 10:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18826531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aklya/pseuds/Aklya
Summary: "Turning and turning in the widening gyre/The falcon cannot hear the falconer;"-W.B. YeatsA year before the Fall, the world all seems quiet and normal. But the early moves of a world-killing game are beginning, and even as four young students begin their time at Beacon, things are beginning to spiral out of control. They all came here for different reasons. How will they fare caught in a world preparing to tear itself apart?





	1. Lux Trailer (Part 1)

The room was quiet, dimly lit except for the candles that dotted the room around her. In the center, kneeling as if in prayer, sat a woman with long blonde hair reaching her shoulder blades, and sharp, defined features. At her side sat an ornate straight sword a glowing green gemstone set into the golden metal of the pommel. Her chest was plated in golden scales, each reflecting a small portion of the dim candlelight, causing her to almost glow. Her eyes remained closed as she sat in silence, waiting.

Something shifted in the quiet of the room. Blue eyes snapped open, locking onto the area the sound came from. Almost on cue, a figure on a grimm mask and black clothing lunged, a machete-like weapon raised to strike at her skull. With blinding speed, the sword at her side was out of its sheath, parrying the strike above her head, the blade angled tip down towards the floor. As he stepped back to recover from the cut, she forced herself to one knee. Another cut lashed out at her neck, and the thin, golden sword flashed up to block it.

Metal clattered together in a resounding noise echoing in the small room, the second strike slamming into her guard. Her fist lashed out, slamming into the figure’s chest. He staggered back, letting her get to her feet. Cold blue eyes regarded her assailant as she whipped the sword towards him. The air responded even as he backed away from the blade, and the man left the ground with a grunt. The wave of wind rushed through the room, extinguishing candle after candle, letting the room fall into darkness. Freezing, she listened. Nothing. He was getting better at being quiet.

The throwing knife caught her off guard, the red blade flashing from the darkness and slamming into her shoulder. She felt the cold steel biting into her, metal piercing flesh and digging into the bone. Staggering back, she gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the pain. Why hadn’t her aura blocked it? How had it gone through? Growling, she forced herself to focus as the battle changed again. The last few candles flickered out as similar knives slammed into them, sending them falling to the ground. Denying her light. Whoever this assassin was, he was smart.

Not smart enough, though.

Her eyes struggled to find them in the darkness, any sign of them disappearing in the silence of the room. They were good, she’d give them that. But she was better. Blue eyes closed as she called her aura back to her.

Blinding white light filled the room, flashing brightly for a moment before sinking into a comfortable glow around her. Opening her eyes, she saw him staggering backwards, his weapon dropped. She lunged. Golden metal pierced through his shoulder, eliciting a scream. Another flash of light, and he was on his knees. She slammed the pommel into his skull and he crumpled.

Leaning back against the wall, a shaking hand found her scroll, pressing a few buttons before collapsing.

The screen read 911 as a frantic voice asked what was happening.


	2. Lux Trailer (Part 2)

“You alright?” Lux looked up at the offered hand, a low groan escaping her as she reached up to grab it. Her armor golden shine was dulled by the caked dirt and mud that muted the near mirror surface that she kept it at. Her right arm felt wrong as if it wasn’t wholly there even as the man pulled her up.

“I’m fine. Nothing aura can’t heal.” She forced a small smile, not entirely feeling like having this conversation. She knew where it would go in about five sentences. “That low strike hits hard.”

“Yeah, well, your trick with the winds is clever. Dunno how well I coulda held that off for much longer.” He smirked a look that annoyed Lux more than she ever showed him. “You’re better than you let on, Lux.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a good sparring partner, Auberon.” It was true, to an extent. The man was good to learn with, and he was eager to teach her. If only he had a better reason for it, or she felt the same way. “I’m going to head to the showers and then home. Good luck in your match tomorrow.” She turned towards the locker rooms, grimacing as she did so. That blow may have been heavier than she thought. Maybe she should ask mom to look at it before the airship came to pick her up.

“Hey, Lux?” Here it comes. Freezing in place, she glanced over her shoulder. He had a hopeful look on his face. He always did.

“I was wondering if you’d be willing to go to dinner tonight.” Seven sentences. That had to be the new record. “I know you’re leaving soon, but...”

“Auberon.” she turned on her heel, facing him. She hated this. Hated turning him down every week. “I can’t.” Her left hand reached for her elbow, her gaze finding something else but his face. “Not now, with me leaving so soon.” Another excuse. Another reason to push it down the line.

“Right. Of course.” He seemed dejected, of course, but still hopeful. Why did he have to be so hopeful?

As she walked into the showers, Lux let out a sigh, sinking onto the bench in front of her assigned locker. What was wrong with her? She should have just told him she wasn’t interested. It would just be easier. All this would have been easier. Slowly, carefully, she started to take off the armor. Every move hurt. Her stomach was sore from that strike. Auberon hit like a truck. Sighing, she managed to get the stained armor off. She’d have to clean it later.

“You should tell him.”

The voice was quiet, just barely audible over the sounds of the showers in the background. Sanctum’s locker rooms weren’t the best, but at least there was that small mercy. Lux glanced over at the owner, the redheaded champion leaning with her back against her own locker. For a girl a year below her, Pyrrha was an impressive fighter in her own right. It seemed only fitting that the girl got all the wisdom, too.

“I know.”


	3. Ashera Trailer

_Crunch_

 

The first snowfall had overtaken Vale, and a blanket of cold smothered the earth in a stifeling blanket of white. Little lived out here in the woods, as the snow and the Grimm tended to drive everything into hiding.

 

_Crunch_

 

Each footstep seemed louder than a hammerblow as he crept forward, the blood in his ears pounding. Short and lean, the boy was tense, his body wound like a spring, his unkemp head of grey hair shifting as his head snapped from side to side. _This was it_ , Ashera thought. The final test. He couldn’t fail here.

 

_Crunch_

 

Golden, hawk-like eyes scanned the surroundings as he stopped, the edge of the clearing nearby. They were stalking him. Prey had finally entered their territory. They could hunt. Pulling the axe from his belt, he shifted it, the handle growing longer until the haft reached the snow below him, and the head lengthened from the simple curved head into a full crecent moon shape. A small band of glowing purple flashed atop the handle, and just above it a dust cylinder spun into ready.

 

_Crunch_

 

Behind him. The First pair of glowing embers glared out of the darkness between the trees. They would come to him. Head on a swivel. Check for more.

 

There!

 

The beast lunged, and he spun to the side, depressing a button as he did. The axe blade glowed orange as fire poured off of it, and the blade tore into the Beowulf’s chest. The howl it spewed was deafening, reverberating off the trees and eliciting a growl from the others in the edges of his peroferial vision. He had to get to the clearing. He’d have more room to swing, and he needed it with the Grimm.

 

The next beast lunged for him, and he ducked the blow, bringing the barachade into the creatures leg as it passed. There was a howl, and the beast limped forward, before colapsing and slowly disolving. He didn’t have time to celebrate. They were coming again.

 

The clearing. He had to get to the clearing. Throwing himself forward, he threw the massive axe forward, watching it bury itself into another Grimm’s skullplate. Grasping at the handle as he passed, the boy made a break for the clearing. He had to make it. Just a little more, and he’d have room to fight.

 

They backed off then, circling him, waiting for an opening. Good. It gave him a moment to recenter. Four more. Two stuck together, seeming to work as one. One lurked just in front of him, seeming content to watch rather than attack. The fourth was larger, trying to stay on the edge of his vision. Possibly an alpha, though he doubted it. Too small. If they wanted to wait him out, though, they could. The cold would set in eventually.

 

Maybe he should lure them in. Plans began to form in his mind. Some sort of firebolt? Possible, but taxing. He’d already burned dust in this fight. Save it if possible. Feignted charge? The snow would make that difficult to stop. Maybe...

 

The crack of a rifle split the low sounds of tread and growls, and the beast crouched in fromt of him fell. The pair lunged then, and he lept to them, slicing the axe blade through the arms of one and burying itself into its chest. Yanking it around, he landed a kick into the other beast’s side, sending it off balance. The purple ring sparked, filling the air with a flash of amethyst, and he spun with unimagionable speed, the axe burried in the beast before it could recover.

 

A thud behind him, and he turned to see two women standing there. The shorter of the pair leaned on her glaive, the rifle barrel just visible out of the back of the weapon. Her red hair was tied up into a bun on her head, and the faintest hint of the plates of her scale armor peaked out from under her cloak. Her smirk seemed to taunt him, as if she wanted to say something to insult him.

 

The taller of the pair stepped back from her fighting stance, the pair of shortswords she held returning to their sheaths as she stepped forward. “Good job, kid. I think you’re ready.” Mercy smiled, hazel eyes barely peaking out from behind unruly brown bangs as she stepped forward into the clearing. Her clothes were simple, mostly grey and black with a small green scarf around her neck.

 

“You missed two of them, bird-brain.” The other woman’s voice was mocking, the self-righeous tone evident  “I mean really, if we had to help you...”

 

“Be nice, Phyllis. We stepped in because your father wants you back at the house.” Mercy shook her head as she turned from Ashera, who had begun to colapse his weapon and return it to his belt. “Head back to the ship. Try not to die on the way.” A grunt and Phyllis turned and left. Mercy glanced at her retreating form once before stepping towards Ashera, who tucked the axe into his belt. “How do you put up with it?”

 

“With what, master?” The question was worded simple enough as he dipped his head, trying to hide the frown there. Feignting ignorance would only get him so far. Shifting uncomfortably, he made to follow his sister.

 

“You know with what.” The responce was curt, almost annoyed. “With your sister being well...” Mercy motioned to the direction that Phyllis had gone “that.”

 

“Used to it, mostly.” Ashera commented, almost in passing. “She’s the favored child and acts like it.” Mercy only gave him a small, thoughtful nod as she frowned.

 

“You’re a good student, Ashera.” She spoke quietly. “You’ll go far at Beacon.” Glancing ascance, she gave a little chuckle. “Very far.”

 

“Thank you, Master.” Giving a small bow and a nod, Ashera looked up to see Mercy shaking her head.

 

“I’m not your master anymore, kid.” Smiling, she turned to walk to the ship. “Now, c’mon. We have to get you little ones back home.”


	4. Phyllis Trailer

_ CRACK _

 

The rifle shot reverberated in the Signal training room, the bullet slammed into the carefully crafted illusion of an Ursa’s head, shattering the thing into a million pieces as she stepped backwards. One down. Phyllis swung the rifle in her hands towards the second one, lining up a second shot. The beast charged, and she fired a second time, a clean, exact shot through the bear-monster’s left eye. With a sound like breaking crystal, the illusion broke. Two down.

 

Leaping back, the red-headed girl frowned as she looked across the battlefield. Two more. One was nearly on top of where she had just been, it’s claw raised to strike. The other was charging her, aiming to hit her as she settled. It seemed smarter than the others, as if more experienced. Older? Feet slamming into the ground, the auburn-haired woman swung the rifle as she landed, the butt of the weapon slamming into the massive creature. The Ursa staggered back, a few steps of breathing room. Pivoting, letting the force of the blow spin her, a single finger flicking a switch near the trigger, and the weapon shifted. An eighteen-inch blade grew from under the barrel of the gun, and the rifle shifted to a thin pole more than a rifle stock. As she pirouetted back, the blade sunk into the Grimm, and smirked as the image broke like glass. One more, this one larger. It had been hanging back, watching her.

 

Good. More likely she could work with it.

 

She planted the butt of the spear into the ground and extended her hand, forcing her aura to envelop the creature’s mind. It stumbled and looked at her, those cold red eyes dulled as she walked forward, twirling the spear as the Ursa froze. Her smile grew as she came close, bringing the blade into the beast’s throat. The blade stabbed deep into the beast, and as it did, she pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the beast’s brain.

 

This one dissolved.

 

Smiling, she turned to the instructor, a blond man with cargo shorts and a ridiculous shirt that screamed ‘Dad’, who stood on a balcony looking over Signal’s training room. Behind him lurked a woman in grey and black clothing, who looked supremely unimpressed in the background. “A live one and three illusions? Ursa hunt in threes.”

 

“Ursa  _ normally _ hunt in threes.” Mr. Xiao Long replied. “Grimm don’t always fight in the numbers we expect them too.” He frowned. “That being said, you did well. Good luck on the Beacon exams.” With a curt nod and a sharp glance to the woman skulking behind the instructor, Phyllis left.

 

“She’s not terrible.” Mercy commented, her eyes still staring down into the training room. “But she thinks she’s better than she is.”

 

“She’s young, Mercy.” Taiyang said quietly, turning to face the retired huntress. “Give her time.”

 

"Time is a luxury we may not have, old friend." Mercy's cold hazel eyes stared at him for a long moment. "Try to keep that in mind."


	5. Sachka Trailer

The relentless wind whipped around him, buffeting the young warrior as he stalked up the mountain, the trail overrun with plants hungry to reclaim the land that humans had claimed as their path. They were just plants, and he trampled them down on his way up the mountain. A few paces in front of him walked his father Menela, a man who had once had a powerful build and terrifying battle prowess, but his years had finally ensnared him, his once mighty body beginning to age and wither away. Sachka, for all his love of the man, pitied him. To grow old and feeble, in the eyes of the young man, was a thing worse than death herself.

 

It wouldn’t be far to the monster’s lair, they knew, and both men silently prepared themselves for the battle. The monsters weren’t new to the island, but this one had killed multiple people and had started coming closer and closer to their home village. It had to be killed. Sachka checked the ammunition in his weapon,  _ Vrychith,  _ a single-edged shortsword with a curved blade, the back of the blade seemingly bent down halfway down the weapon, flaring near the tip like an axehead. It was a brutal weapon, even without the built-in double-barreled shotgun. He nodded at the full clip. Extra shells around his waist, and  _ Koufos,  _ his shield, was strapped around his back. Menela simply drew the great blade from his back and walked on. Shifting  _ Koufos  _ to his arm and drawing  _ Vrychith, _ he started forward.

 

The roar was heard before they saw the beast. It was aware of them now, and the two warriors sprung into action. The older raised the sword, swinging it into a high guard. The younger charged forward, towards the noise.

 

The beast was on them before they could do anything. A massive monster, stygian black fur and great white plates on its face, the massive, lion-like beast leaping through the air past Sachka, leaping onto his father, one great paw slapping the blade out of the elder warrior’s hand, and the beast was on top of him. Menela desperately tried to fend off the monster’s impossible strength. Leaping forward, Sachka fired one of  _ Vrychith’s _ barrels into the beast's flank as the distance closed and Menela tried desperately to find his dagger as he attempted to hold the beast’s maw from his throat. Desperate hacking at the beast’s side did nothing as if the monster didn’t notice the blows. Time for something else.

 

He leaped onto the beast’s back, wrapping his sword arm around the beast’s neck and pulling up with all his strength. The force wasn’t enough to harm the monster, but it gave Menela time to grab the small dagger from his belt and shove it into the monster’s eye. The beast howled, recoiling, and finally attempting to roll over onto its back in an attempt to crush the pesky human on its back. As it did, Sachka growled, and his aura flared as an explosive wave ripped from his form, causing a cracking sound to resonate from the beast, and separating the two enemies. The dagger, sticking from the beast’s eyes, sported shattered wood where the handle had been. Aiming the weapon again, he readied for another pounce. For a moment, the beast clawed at its ruined eye, before focusing on the humans before it. The thing seemed intelligent, and a simple thought crossed their heads at the same time.

 

This isn’t about the killing anymore. This is about survival.

 

The monstrous lion thing lunged, and Sachka fired the shotgun blast, raising his shield up to shield most of him from the initial blow. The beast landed on him, the blast ricocheting off if the monster’s bone white mask. The shield protected him from the monster’s claws, but the force of the blow knocked him onto his back, hard. The weight of the beast crushed him as the thing snapped at his head. Letting go of the sword, he shoved a hand into the beast’s neck to hold it back. It snapped once, twice, and a third time, each attempt weaker, before the monster went limp and faded to nothing,  _ Vrychith  _ clattering to the ground next to him, no longer supported by the monster’s flesh he had buried it in. Standing slowly, grabbing the blade, he looked to his father, who simply smiled.

“Go, my son.” He said simply. “Maelos is too small for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sachka's name is kinda annoying to me, mostly because it's changed the most of all of them. While Ashera's name his sort of always been there, and Lux's and Phyllis' have were basically decided once and done with, Sachka has always been up in the air and has changed multiple times over the writing process. I ended up just looking up a list of names that fit the theme I had for the character. Honestly, the fact that the name has either masculine or feminine connotations makes it all the more twisted fun for me as a writer.


	6. Introduction: The Center

_ Turning and turning in the widening gyre    _

_ The falcon cannot hear the falconer; _

_ Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; _

-W. B. Yeats,  _ The Second Coming _

 

“The world is a chessboard, my dear.” The old man spoke, staring out the floor to ceiling windows at the setting sun over Mistral. “You either get to be a player or a pawn.” A sigh escaped his lips, picking up a small, recently emptied crystal glass from an end table nearby. Cold blue eyes scanned the room, lingering on the sun-haired woman standing behind him, her hands clasped behind her and her eyes on him. Unflinching. His eyes moved on, finding the decanter on the far side of the room. Without another word, he walked over to it, setting the glass down next to it and pouring a glass of the amber liquid for himself. “Would you like some? It’s Valian.” He smirked. “May as well try some of the land you’re going to.”

 

Lux shifted, her eyes shifting between her father and the glass as she suppressed a smile. “Sure.” Studying his face as he poured the glass, she could see the creases in his face, marks of the great game he played. “Atlas Academy is intended to create pawns, to use that analogy.” Taking the glass, she brought it to her lips, feeling it burn down her throat. “Shade is the exact opposite, but...”

 

“But Vacuo is unforgiving and too easy to make another attempt on you.” He finished for her, and she gave a small nod. Taking another sip, he walked back to the window, as if the setting sun would provide some answers.

 

“Plus, it’s insanely hot.” She commented, smiling. Taking the small chuckle as her attempt at humor being somewhat successful, she continued. “That leaves Haven and Beacon. Haven is close to home, but it’s also close to home.”

 

Her father cast a quizzical look back at her. “Explain.”

 

“It’s advantageous to be where you and mother can influence the stage if someone makes a move.” Her voice was sharp, but unharsh. She knew the advantages and disadvantages of this. She’s done her homework. “But whoever’s trying to kill me is clearly here, and has some clout of their own. They managed to buy out the local police, remember.” She saw him shift at that, and could imagine the grimace on his face. “Staying in Haven is at best a level playing field.”

 

“And at worst allows our opponent some unseen advantage.” Father added, his eyes still glued to the sunset. “So what of Beacon?”

 

“Beacon is neutral, as the Council of Vale has handed complete control of the academy to the Headmaster’s office, save for the right to remove a headmaster by unanimous vote." Slow strides carried her closer to the window, but still, she stopped a few paces behind him. “While it’s not Atlas, where the military is hard to infiltrate at best, it still holds to reason that the movers and shapers of Vale and of Mistral are different, especially with some of the upper echelons holding grudges from the Great War.”

 

“So, Beacon, then?” He said, a note of sadness clinging to the question. “Very well. On one condition, however.”

 

Lux felt her whole body tighten. “Yes?”

 

He turned with a smile, walking back to his daughter, setting the glass down on the end table next to them. “Come back to me, little sunshine.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------

**_Twelve Years Ago_ **

 

The room was dark and still, the only noise the quiet, grinding hum of a generator moaning in its work. At a small table sat a single man, thin and wispy, his hair black and his eyes dulled green, studying some documents on his scroll. Footsteps sound outside, approaching slowly, deliberately. The man set down the scroll, the document still visible on the screen. Eyes trained on the door, he watched the old man step in.

 

He walked on a cane, his left leg twisted at an unnatural angle at the knee. If one were to glance, they may guess it could no longer support the weight of his gut, the sphere straining at the buttons of his simple blue shirt, like floodwaters relentlessly assaulting a dike. Greying orange hair crowned his head, but even that was damaged, it ran from his forehead, retreating from some unnamed battle. He limped to the table, pulling up a chair across from the only other occupant.

 

“We move tonight.” The fat one said matter of factly. “Ravana cannot be allowed to continue.”

 

“What triggered the change in schedule?” The thin one asked. “I thought we were waiting for another month.”

 

“She’s begun to talk with the Sangulars. It even seems that she’s making headway.” The fat one replied, his voiced trimmed, but an edge shaking more than his stomach after he laughed.

 

“I see.” He said, dull eyes studying the man’s face. “It’ll cost extra to change the schedule, though.” When all he got was a nod, the thin one left. If the thin one was honest with himself, he felt for this target. She was doing a necessary thing and doing it well. But the money they were paying for her death was substantial, so there wasn’t much he would say about it. 

 

The fat one wiped the sweat from his brow, turning to stand from the chair slowly. Maybe it was a mistake to act now, but there was always the chance that Sangular’s bleeding heart could be persuaded. They couldn’t allow that. Not now that they were doing so well on his joining them. If the assassin could do the job, his problems would be over.

 

Ravana Strumyate would be silenced.


End file.
